


One to the Grave, One up in Grace, One in the Basement, One with the Flames Set

by memearchive



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: :), A shotgun blast is heard from my room followed by a wet splatter. It is still and silent after., Am I gonna get banned from the writing club for sleeping before 12, Angst, BOOM I am a genius., Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Bucky remembers Steve as small, Deception, Drabble, Everything's a writing challenge if you're bad enough at writing., Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flashbacks, Hurt No Comfort, I did actually but it was 10pm not 12am because I oddly enough have a sleep schedule., I mean it's too short to constitute a "one-shot" but like it's more than a paragraph., In a way. It's kind of a QPR but also Winter doesn't really. Care. About anyone. Yeah., Isn't it so cool? I did this in a night, Kinda. Does it count as hurt if the being in question has no human emotions?, Lies, Maybe? I don't know what's the definition of drabble?, Mild Flashbacks, Oh no. Oh god oh fuck oh no., Oneshot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Suffer., There are fun tags, Wait let me try something, Who am I kidding? I'm amazing at writing look at my new complete Writing Challenge, Who knows. Not me., Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, more accurately, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memearchive/pseuds/memearchive
Summary: James "Bucky" Barnes, the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country, died in the Austrian Alps. His body was used in further HYDRA supersoldier experimentation, but, as Captain America has yet to find out, it wasn't Bucky who came back from the grave.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, The Winter Soldier & Steve Rogers
Kudos: 12





	One to the Grave, One up in Grace, One in the Basement, One with the Flames Set

**Author's Note:**

> You don't even fucking know. I wrote this title and NEVER looked back I am not editing it no matter how shit, how wonky, how cheesy it is, the title STAYS.

_James "Bucky" Barnes, the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country, died in the Austrian Alps. His body was used in further HYDRA supersoldier experimentation, but, as Captain America has yet to find out, it wasn't Bucky who came back from the grave._

The air is thick when the Soldier wakes up. The sun is glinting through the windows, decorating the floors and sheets. It's all so foreign, the view, the warmth, the body beside it.

Well, not currently. The Captain has long since gone off to change and run, probably out with the Falcon right now. But the heat lingers in the dent he left in the marshmallow, and the Soldier wishes it felt something.

In its eyes it feels lava. Seeing him, hearing his voice and that tiny kid in his memories. Clashing like puzzle pieces from different sets as they are desperately jammed together. It hurt, the memory and the fall, the bridges, a train on one and a man on the other; the helicarrier. The water stung like frostbite and the man below it had brown hair for half a second, until it gripped his arms tight and dragged him into the forest in the dead of night.

The wind whipped its hair, and it hated how it stuck to its forehead and neck, got in its eyes. It brushed the strands from its face, its shoulders; tucking and untucking it from its ears. A good pass-time, the Soldier realised, when the sun rose and the man awoken.

The Soldier looked at the man a lot. Especially as of recent. It sees a Captain, a leader, but not a friend. It shuts its eyes a lot, too, and tries to picture the same man, except all that comes up are bruises and coughs. And a friend, albeit, but there's only so much one's imagination can do before reality kicks the dust from its face.

It wonders if it needs to hear him to wake up. It feels as if it is buried beneath several layers of consciousness yet can still walk and move and smile and laugh. Can still lie and deceive and bribe and kill. Perhaps it's his voice, the Soldier thinks for the millionth time, because it can hear the Captain talking in its head; will close its eyes and picture the friend. Will look away when they talk under the guise of anxiety while its mind works.

If the Soldier had a conscience, it knows it would feel bad. For pretending to be someone its not, for giving false hope to a traumatised man, for killing his friend and smiling it away with an inner warmth it assumes must be its programming's equivalent to happiness. It wonders how the Captain feels happiness. Probably much better than this.

"Buck?"

It shuts its eyes, rolls over and groans. Some days, it wishes it were easier to look him in the eyes. The Soldier knows it is malfunctioning, knows maintenance would fix the issue with its eyes, with its heart and mind. But HYDRA is dead, dead except for a single head. A single head that is struggling to thrive in the dark, with no water and no food and confined by boring eyes. Johann Schmidt died so the Winter Soldier could live, and it was not living right now. It needs to work, to plan and carry out its newest mission.

If "Bucky" was alive, he was mourn what has become of himself, the Soldier thinks. It has seen the tapes, the photographs; it knows its body's history. A victim of HYDRA; an enemy of it and thus the Fist. But that's neither here nor there, because the Soldier is here now, and Bucky is long gone, and when it finally pries itself from the sheets of its mortal enemy, it grumbles, "Caffeine."

The Captain smiles, leaning on the doorway and drinking his own coffee, mockingly.

The Soldier stumbles over, pulls the cup from his hands and proceeds to down half of it before handing it back and collapsing against his chest. The Captain wraps an arm around it and says something, embracing the Soldier as if they were life-long friends.

Another day, another dollar, it supposes. Another face, another lie. Another breath, another death. Soon, the Soldier thinks with a familiar warmth boiling in its gut, they will all feel HYDRA's embrace. Very, very, soon.


End file.
